THE VALIDE SULTAN| MAGNIFICENT CENTURY|

CHAPTER 10

Gevheri Sultan stood frozen in the doorway, her eyes widening in disbelief at the scene before her. Beyazid, her son and the Sultan, appeared rejuvenated compared to the weakened state he was in just the day before. The contrast was so stark that it seemed as though the events of the poisoning had been nothing more than a troubling dream.

Her gaze shifted from Beyazid to the small bundle cradled in his arms — the newborn princess, Fatma. The sight of her son, dressed and seemingly well, holding his daughter with a beaming smile, filled Gevheri with a mix of relief and bewilderment. It was as if the hands of time had turned back overnight.

"Beyazid, my son!" she exclaimed, a mixture of joy and confusion in her voice. "How is this possible? You were so weak just yesterday. What has happened?"

Sultan Beyazid looked up, his eyes meeting those of his mother. There was a sparkle in his gaze, a resilience that defied the ordeal he had undergone. He gently cradled Fatma, who peacefully slept in his arms, blissfully unaware of the astonishment that filled the room.

"Mother, I cannot explain it myself," Beyazid replied with a calm demeanor. "It's as if a veil has been lifted. I feel stronger, healthier. Perhaps there is a divine intervention at play."

Gevheri approached cautiously, her hand reaching out to touch Beyazid's cheek, half-expecting to find lingering signs of weakness. Yet, his skin felt warm and vibrant beneath her fingertips. The mysterious recovery defied any logical explanation, leaving a sense of wonder lingering in the air.

As Gevheri marveled at the miraculous turn of events, Beyazid continued to cradle his daughter, his smile unwavering. The palace, once shrouded in anxiety and fear, now resonated with a newfound sense of hope and optimism. The news of Beyazid's unexpected recovery would undoubtedly spread throughout the kingdom, sparking both curiosity and speculation among those who witnessed the swift transformation.

In the midst of this surreal moment, Gevheri couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the story than met the eye. The events that unfolded begged the question: Was this truly a miraculous recovery, or was there a hidden force at play in the intricate web of palace intrigues?

With a warm smile, Beyazid expressed his desire to visit Bülbül Hatun and their newborn daughter, Fatma. Gevheri Sultan, though still processing the miraculous recovery of her son, nodded in agreement. She was relieved to see Beyazid's strength restored and welcomed the idea of him spending time with his concubine and the newest addition to the family.

"Of course, my son," Gevheri replied. "It warms my heart to see you well again. Go and visit Bülbül Hatun. I will ensure everything is in order here."

Beyazid gently handed the sleeping Fatma to his mother, who cradled the newborn with a grandmother's tenderness. He then stood, a newfound vitality emanating from him, and made his way toward the door.

"I would be honored to have you accompany me, Mother," Beyazid suggested. "It's been too long since we've had a moment together."

Gevheri smiled, touched by her son's sentiment. "I would be delighted, Beyazid. Let us go together and share in the joy of this blessed occasion."

As they walked side by side through the palace corridors, the news of Beyazid's recovery spread like wildfire among the palace staff. Servants and courtiers, who had been deeply concerned just a day ago, now marveled at the Sultan's seemingly miraculous resurgence. Whispers and hushed conversations filled the air as they passed, with many expressing gratitude for the unexpected turn of events.

Outside Bülbül Hatun's chambers, Beyazid paused and took a deep breath. He then pushed the door open, revealing Bülbül, who was resting after the arduous process of childbirth. Her eyes lit up at the sight of Beyazid, and she attempted to rise from the bed.